Seven Minutes in Heaven
by Envy Her
Summary: 7 min in heaven Reader x Country at one of America's parties. So full of cheese, it could be french OR italian! Lol your oc R
1. Intro

"Ok! Before everyone gets to drunk and goes home, we should play a game!" shouted America, "Anyone have any ideas?"

Instantly, France responds. "Spin the Bottle," he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively and looks over at you. You roll your **(e/c)** eyes, and Britain objects. "Even Seven Minutes in Heaven is better, because at least then you can choose what you have to do!"

"Great idea, England! Seven minutes in Heaven it is!" responds America cheerfully. You face palm as he get a large red, white, and blue bag. "Everyone put stuff in the bag!" Everyone puts something small in the bag as its passed around. You place in a soda tab, cause you didn't have anything else with you at the time. "Awesome! Let's get started! **(y/n)**, you go first!"

You don't even bother to complain. You stand up from your seat next to England and Japan on the squished couch and reach in…

_**(A/N: Who do you want to see? I think I'll do Italy or Germany first, but review!)**_


	2. Flattened Bottle Cap

Something flat and round and made of metal cuts across your finger. Instinctively you pull it out, placing it in your left hand as you bring your bleeding index finger to your lips. It was a beer bottle cap, but it had been bent until it was completely flat. You knew it was Germany's. He had been making them every time he opened a new beer, and he had a small pile in his hands.

"Germany!" you call, and he looked up, "This is yours, right?"

"Verdammin," _(damn it)_ he swore under his breath, "I thought since it was so small…"

America lead you into the dark closet, and you heard the door's lock click. The three by three room was pitch black, and you were so scared that if you moved that you would bump into him.

"Were are you?" he asked, and you jumped, realizing he was right behind you. "Erm…sorry," he said, backing up against the wall behind me. I leaned against the wall I thought was facing him, and tried to think of what to do in the next seven minutes. "By the way, **(y/n)**," he asked, "What's this game about, anyway? Do we just stand here for seven minutes, or what?"

It came as a surprise to you that the country didn't know the rules to anything. He was usually so strict and now he was asking you!?

"Well…you're, um…you're supposed to kiss the person you're in the closet with." You said the last bit very quickly, trying your hardest to avoid embarrassment.

"Oh," he said, and you could almost feel the mutual blush on your faces. "Das ist gut?… or nicht so gut?" _(This is good?… or not so good?_)

You don't know.

You think it's good, but what if he doesn't? Why is he asking you!? You suddenly remember the cut on you finger. It's amazing how much pain can be blocked out by a little embarrassment. And why do fingers bleed so much? You can feel the hot, sticky wetness on the pulsing cut. You tentatively touch it, gasping a little as the the little touch stings.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"Yeah. Your stupid bottle cap gave me a two inch cut though." You flicked it over at him, and you hear it hit the wall instead of him. You realize you only have about thirty seconds left before your time is up. You have to do something before you can't do anything. Slowly, you put your hands out, feeling the fabric of his coat on his shoulder with your left hand, and the his surprisingly soft, silky hair with your right.

"What… what are you…" but you cut him off with a soft kiss. He seemed surprised at first, but quickly adapted, putting one hand on the small of your back and entangling the fingers of his other hand in your hair, pulling you in with his strong hands. Simultaneously, you pull apart for air, grinning like idiots and still holding each other tightly together.

"Ich liebe dich, Germany," _(I love you)_ you say, using the limited German you know.

"Ich liebe dich, **(y/n)**," he replied. Suddenly the door flew open, and a camera flashed.

America gasped. "Oh my God! What did he do to you!? What's with all the blood!?"

"Oh yeah," you say, "Germany, there's probably some blood in your hair."

"That's fine."

_**(A/N: Awwwwww! Sooooo cuuuuttte! When/if you review, and if you want to be drawn with this country, add your looks, and I will pick one person to draw with him. Do not just review with your looks. Your looks would be hair color/style, eye color, skin color, and party clothes.)**_


	3. The Bookmark

You feel something like laminated paper, and you trace it's edges, feeling a ribbon on one end. Curiosity takes over, and you pull it out, seeing a white bookmark with a purple ribbon. On the front is something in some Asian characters, and on the back is a picture of a very beautiful girl who looks a little like you, but her (h/c) hair is down to her knees and she's wearing a school uniform; her face is partially covered by the book she's reading.

"That is mine," says Japan. He walks over to you, taking it from you and placing it in his current manga, before setting it down. America quickly pushes you and Japan into the closet. You fall into a corner of the pitch black, three by three room, and Japan falls on top of you, catching himself right before actually hitting you. For a second you stay like that, frozen by shock. After a minute, he stood, straitening his clothes, before offering his hand. A belated blush spreads you face. You take it, standing up and finding where to stand that's not too close. A few moments later, you speak.

"Um…Japan?" you ask quietly.

"Yes, (y/n)?"

"Uh…you can let go of my hand now. You know…if you want."

He drops your hand instantly. "Uh! M-m-my apologies, (l/n)-san! I did not mean to offe-"

"No, no! It's fine!" you say, talking over him. "I really didn't mind! And please just call me (y/n), you really don't have to be so formal!"

"Oh…" The two of you stand there in awkward silence for a moment, then, you move toward him. "(y-y/n)…what are you d-" but you cut him off with a slow, gentle kiss. You can feel the heat of his blush and his hands waving around about six inches off your arms, as he unsure were to put them. Only when you lace your fingers together behind the small of his back does he finally rest his hands on your shoulders. You slowly, but steadily pull him closer to yourself, until your bodies are pressed together and you pull away from the kiss. There were a million things to say, but the best thing was silence. You rest your chin on his shoulder, his arms holding you, and you stayed like that for about thirty perfect seconds, before he suddenly stepped away from you.

"Japan, wha-" The door opened and a camera flashed, but America was disappointed when he saw you were almost as far apart as you could be.

"Really? Nothing?" he asks.

"No, Mr. America. Not in front of you, anyway." You just smile as you follow him out.


	4. The Tomato

You feel something small and round and smooth. You pull it out, only to see that it's a tiny tomato.

"Um…Romano?" He walks over to you, unhappily kicking out at America, who dodges.

"Remember," says America through the now locked door, "You only have seven minutes, so make it count!" Romano slams a fist into the door, and you can hear America jump.

"This is the stupidest game ever," he complains. Truthfully, you have mixed feelings about getting him; you didn't want to play the game, but at least it was him and not someone else.

Suddenly, he kisses you, smashing his lips into the corner of yours violently. Having missed, he slid his mouth over to yours, trying to deepen the kiss. For a moment, you can only be surprised and struggle, but then you succeed, finally shoving him off you.

"What the hell! You can't just kiss someone like that!"

"Well, that is what your supposed to do, stupid jerk!"

"You don't have to! You're the jerk!"

"I'm the jerk!? I kissed you even though your breath smells like (favorite food)!"

"Who said I even liked being kissed!?"

"Of course! You don't like anything!"

"Wha-! Well, maybe I did like it!"

"Well maybe I did too!"

You sigh. "It was my first kiss…" you say quietly.

"I-!" he stopped, mid-sentence. "Wait, what? Oh. I…uh…sorry."

You smile a little. He's cute when he's embarrassed. "It's ok. You suck at it, and it kinda hurt my mouth, but, maybe we could…you know…try it again?" He nodded, eyes wide.

This time, he was gentler, and you were ready, warmth spreading through your body, instead of anger like before. This time, he runs his tongue over your lips, asking permission to deepen the kiss, instead of forcing it like before. This time, his hands are on your lower back and running through your hair, instead of on the back of your head like before. This time-

SLAM! The door flies open and a camera flashes. Imeadiantly, he pulls away, blushing and swearing.

"Give me that damn camera, you burger-loving bastard!" Instead of letting him lose on America, you grab his wrist pulling him back into the closet and shutting the door.

"Be very quiet," you whisper to him, and for once he doesn't argue. You hear lots of mumbling, France saying something you'll never repeat, and Spain making bets on how passionate Romano is about you. You smile.

"Who exactly do you want to prove right?" he asks you.

"Um…somewhere between the ideas of Spain and France," you say, and as you kiss him again, you can feel him blush.


	5. The Tea

You feel something papery, about an inch and a half tall with a string attached, and you pull it out to see a tea bag. "Um…this is yours, England?" He looks up.

"Yes, it is." He sighed. "Well, let's get this over with." Once the two of you were locked inside the closet, he spoke again. "I'm sorry I brought it up, I just really didn't want to play Spin the Bottle. I didn't think you would have to end up playing Seven Minutes in Hell."

"Oh, it's fine. As long as I'm in here with you it's still Heaven." You did not just say that. You blush scarlet, and your sure he can hear your heart pounding.

"Really?" he asks, genuinely surprised. He seems to regain control of himself again, though, because then he says: "That's funny. I've always wanted to be stuck in Heaven with an angel." You breath in sharply, surprised that he'd say that. But you can play this game too.

"Oh please. I'm sure someone as amazing as you has several angels all to himself." Ok, maybe that was a little overkill.

"No, your the first angel I've met." The way he put emphasis on angel made you blush.

"But who said I was an angel?" you ask, suggestive behind you innocence.

"Even if you are, I'm sure you'll dance without wings soon."

(A/N: to dance without wings or dance wingless means to sort-of forget everything and have fun, but here he uses it as a pun.)

"I can't dance," you reply simply. This is true; no one had ever taught you, and you had never bothered to teach yourself.

"Is that so? I suppose I could teach you…" You stepped to towards him, so you noses are only about three inches away from each other.

"I would like that a lot." You smile, and he returns it. You can feel his hand slip into yours as he gently uses the other to guide your hand to his shoulder. You blush as his hand rests on your waist and he leans forward, whispering into your ear.

"I'll lead." For a minute, it's more like awkward stumbling, but you soon get the hang of it, and you spin round and round to a mutual rhythm. You know you have almost no time left, but you can't think of what to do; you're too dizzy. England stops, and you do too, wondering what's wrong. He leans in, and you realize he's about to kiss you. You close your eyes, and a split second later his lips touch yours, and warmth spreads through your body, then…

The door slams open and there's a flash. "OMG, France, look dude!" says America, showing France the picture.

"Oh hon hon! I see Old Mister England is finally getting some action with a younger country!" You both blush scarlet, but you decide to take control. You grab his wrist, pulling him towards the stairs.

"More 'action' then you'll ever get!" you shout back, causing America (but not France) to turn the same shade you had been, and (if possible) making England blush even more. Oh yes. This was going to be fun.


	6. The Sun Flower Picture

You felt paper, taking it out and carefully unfolding it, to see a piece of paper about four by four inches big. On it was the colored pencil sketch of a sunflower field you had drawn Russia at America's last party, when you had played Swap, a game where two people simply switch items of equal value. You had drawn him this picture in exchange for half a bottle of vodka, which you had drunk a few sips of, then, later in the night, poured on France's head. You had kept the bottle, but you didn't know he had kept the picture. You feel his presence behind you, and seconds later his gloved hands take it from you.

"We should be going, da?" You nod, walking towards the closet with him behind you. Only once you hear the click of the lock do you speak up.

"I didn't know you kept the picture I made you," you say, trying to sound casual, but ending up noticeably more high-pitched then you should be. 'Am I scared of him?' you wonder.

"Of course. It was made just for me by you, so is obviously important. But you sound afraid. You are not scared of Russia, da?"

You shook your head. 'I'm not scared…am I nervous?'

"Hm…everyone else is scared, so I won't really be offended."

You shook again. "I've never really been that scared of you. You were always so nice that there was no reason to be." He said something very quietly. "What?"

"I'm scared of you. Actually, less of you and more for you. I'm scared I might hurt you and make you hate me." He looked at you very suddenly. "You just seem so fragile."

"That's not very nice. I can take perfect care of myself! Anyway, when would you hurt me?" you ask, suspiciously. He smiles creepily, stepping forward and backing you into a wall. "R-Russia?" He lifts you chin up with a finger and thumb.

"I might hurt you when I try to do this." He kisses you. His lips are so cold and it surprises you. You kiss back, almost trying to warm him up, wrapping your arms around his scarfed neck. You feel his hand slide from your chin to the back of your neck and his other hand pull you in at your waist. Then-

SLAM! The door flys open and there's a flash. Russia pulls away from you slowly, before turning and smiling so sweetly in a way that clearly says 'I'm about to kill you brutally and painfully, and eat your children alive, very slowly'.

"Please hand me that camera. I can't imagine how much pain Belarus might feel if she saw it. And you too! She has a way of making others suffer equally to her." America just hands him the camera and closes the door. Russia smiles again.


End file.
